


Doctors Wear Surgical Masks and Eat Ice Cream

by CosmicMind



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Ice Cream, M/M, Scars, Surgical masks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 17:19:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12392574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicMind/pseuds/CosmicMind
Summary: A fic about ice cream and treating old wounds.





	Doctors Wear Surgical Masks and Eat Ice Cream

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written in a while, and never for tf2, so this was refreshing to write. Also I love Heavy/Medic so much and I'm tired.

Growing up in Siberia in a poor family of six, ice cream was a very, very rare treat that Misha only had a handful of times before joining Team Fortress, most of which had been during his time at the university. Even if he could have afforded it, it would be redundant- why eat cold treats when it’s already cold out?

 

That’s not to say Misha didn’t like his treats once in a blue moon, especially when his partner absolutely _loved_ the frozen treat.

 

Ludwig seemed to want to go out for ice cream no matter what time of year it was. In their area, ice cream unfortunately was not sold during the winter, as sales were always too low to make a profit. Yet Ludwig persisted, never failing stocking the freezer with ice pops and the likes to snack on until spring arrived. Reminded him of his childhood, as he told Misha repeatedly, like he was back home in Germany with his mother and father.

 

Though now it was spring, and since they happened to be in town for bird feed and groceries, Ludwig convinced Misha to get a couple of cones from _Young’s Pharmacy and Fountain_. As always, Ludwig whined and begged, gripping on Misha’s thick bicep, and Misha pretended to put up a fight but agreed anyways.

 

Misha ducked his head as he followed Ludwig inside and the bell chimed throughout the store. The soda jerk, an older lady with bright red hair named Carol, perked her head up when the familiar faces entered, tapping her fingernails on the counter.

 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the mercs from down the lane,” Carol greeted, folding her arms and smirking, “Thought you two forgot about me, haven’t seen you in so long.”

 

“Is been busy,” Misha replied, “Went to visit mother and sisters in Florida. Ludwig came too.”

 

“I can tell. Your buddy’s looking a little pink around the eyes there.”

 

Ludwig’s eyes crinkled with glee. “Yes, vell, ze sun is brutal,” he exclaimed, “I valk out for two seconds and I look like an apple!”

 

“Really? A doctor who doesn’t know how to use proper skin protection?” Carol teased, “Color me shocked.”

 

Ludwig cackled and Misha let out a bubble chuckle in addition. In the short amount of time Ludwig and Misha moved into a cabin in the nearby mountain range since Team Fortress disbanded for good this time, they wasted no time in gaining popularity in the town. While the true nature of their relationship existed only beyond closed doors, no one seemed to mind. To most of the townsfolk, they were just your average friendly neighborhood ex-mercenaries.

 

However, they did stick out like sore thumbs in such a small town. They towered over most of the citizens, and were more physically fit than anyone else in the area would ever need to be. Indeed, it was hard to miss the two very good friends consisting of a wall of muscle Russian and a former German scientist who always wore a white surgical mask whenever he went out.

 

“So, how’s Martin?” Ludwig asked as he looked over the flavors.

 

“Oh, you know him,” Carol replied, “Been busy cooped up in the office all day trying to juggle our expenses and taxes, so he puts lil’ ol Carol to do the dirty work. But I can’t complain, ‘cause I’d rather be out here talking and socializing than sitting in that stuffy office.”

 

“That’s good,” Misha said, “We like seeing you too. Good company.”

 

“Well aren’t you the friendliest giant,” Carol thanked, “Now, what can I get you gentlemen?”

 

Per usual, Misha got plain vanilla, and Ludwig got mint chocolate chip, and they sat at the same spot on the counter closest to the window, groceries set on by their feet. Even with gray starting to take over his black hair, Ludwig was as giddy as ever to get his cone. He lowered his surgical mask and dug right into the cold concoction, wiping the dribble on his chin.

 

“Doktor, doktor,” Misha chided, “You are what, almost forty? Have manners.”

 

Ludwig rolled his eyes. “ _Mein Freund_ ,” Ludwig retorted, “You have zeen me vith blood covering all of my body, and you don’t say a word. But I get a little cream on my chin, and you’re like zis! You are vorse zhan my mother.”

 

“Now don’t say anything when I am messy eater, _da_?”

 

“Oh no, you’re never off ze hook, svine.”

 

The two basked in their merriment until Heavy finished his much smaller ice cream, then excusing himself to go to the bathroom. Ludwig was now gnawing at the crunchy cone, content with basking in his own thoughts for a minute.

 

Though not too long after Misha had left, Ludwig’s personal bubble was popped when he noticed a young boy, no more than six, maybe seven, staring up at him. Ludwig made eye contact with the child’s confused look.

 

“What happened to your face?” the boy asked.

 

Ludwig’s words caught in his throat, coming out in a garbled mess. “V-Vhat?” he stammered, putting a hand to his cheek subconsciously, now fully aware that he wasn’t wearing his mask right now.

 

The boy pointed up at him. “Did it hurt?”

 

Ludwig had been nearly burned alive in the past, and now he was frozen. Frozen to the stool he sat at as his ice cream continued to melt and pool inside the cone. He ran his fingers along the flesh of his cheek, hand shaking like he really was frozen, and it wasn’t post-ice cream shivers.

 

“It’s… vell, it’s, ehm… I…”

 

“Timothy!” the boy’s mother cried out as she came storming from the cash register, a chocolate cone in her hand, “I told you it’s not polite to point, boy!” She yanked the kid away and plopped the cone into his hand to shut him up, then turned back to Ludwig, who lifted his surgical mask back up with his tail between his legs. “I’m sorry, he-”

 

“What is going on?” Misha said darkly, now emerging from the bathroom with anger bubbling up under his skin, “This woman causing trouble?”

 

“Oh, no, no, no, no,” the woman pleaded, Misha’s intimidation taking immediate effect, “It was my son. I-I turned my back for one second and next thing is he’s bothering this man. Please, he-he-he doesn’t know any better.”

 

“Is that so?” Misha said, still skeptical and protective of his friend.

 

“Look, if you’re gonna cause trouble, please take it outside or you leave, Miriam,” Carol butted in.

 

“I’m not- it’s not that-” Miriam sputtered.

 

“ _Nein_ , I’m done anyvays,” Ludwig said quietly, getting up from his stool rather abruptly, “Let’s just leave, Misha.” He was quick to exit through the door, bell chiming once more, finger resting on the top of his surgical mask. The remainder of his ice cream was tossed out as he left as well.

 

Misha looked at the two women and child, then ran off to catch up with Ludwig to their car parked down the street, not caring that he was left to carry all the bags of food.

 

_\----_

**_Sometime in the recent past_ **

****

_“Vait! Vait!” Ludwig cried as a meaty hand pushed his face into the mud, squishing the flesh effortlessly just as much as Ludwig’s struggles were useless, “Ze machine! You still need me! I’m ze only one-”_

_“Nah, you were just the closest,” the older mercenary gritted, blood from his face wound dripping onto Medic’s own face and glasses, “The old woman. **She** knows. And now I know where she is.”_

_Still holding the doctor down, the Classic Heavy grabbed the nearby discarded bone saw and grinned at the sight of Ludwig’s eyes grow wider. He used one meaty finger to hook Ludwig’s mouth open, and lowered the sharp blade towards the corner of his mouth. As any good mercenary doctor, Ludwig cared for his weapons and their quality; a cut has already formed into his lips, blood trickling down Ludwig’s cheek._

_“Hirin’ you was the biggest mistake I ever made, doc. You been sewin’ god-knows-what into us for months… now it’s my turn.”_

_The Heavy pressed the blade further, and now Ludwig was really panicking. He couldn’t scream for help, no one would hear him, not this time. Kicking was as useless as ever, but maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that a miracle would happen._

_“But first, how about I start by returning the favor?”_

_The Heavy whipped his arm out, hard, and in one swift motion. Ludwig’s blood curdling scream drowned out when the sound of Misha calling after him came from behind the elder mercenary._

\----

 

The car ride back to their cabin was nauseatingly silent. Ludwig didn’t even make eye contact with Misha, just stared mindlessly out the window. The only thing he did besides staring at the passing trees and steep hills was mindlessly touching his surgical mask and face.

 

Even after coming home, Ludwig promptly retreated to his study with the bird seed, slamming the door behind himself. Misha sighed and packed away the groceries as quickly as he could. It pained him to see Ludwig- the social, excitable, and witty Ludwig- retreat to a state colder than the worst Siberian winters.

 

After several minutes of silence coming from the study, Misha took matters into his own large hands, and quietly rapped on the door with the back of his knuckle.

 

“Ludwig?” he asked, “May I come in?”

 

Initially, there was nothing but the faint cooing of pigeons beyond the door. Though after a little bit of waiting a faint, “Come in,” came from inside the study.

 

Misha found Ludwig standing at his desk, hands firmly on the table and head sunk low. His surgical mask was thrown on the floor, with several of his doves that weren’t near their master investigating the strange new object. Ludwig’s chested heaved, making great efforts to keep it together.

 

Misha took cautious steps forward, placing a soft hand on Ludwig’s wood-stiff shoulder. “Can you tell me what upset you?” he implored, voice as soft as it could go.

 

Ludwig sighed, hand coming up to wipe his eyes, yet still refusing to turn around and face his lover. “Do you still think I’m handsome?” he asked barely above a whisper.

 

“Of course, I-”

 

“Really? Be honest.”

 

Misha didn’t know what to say now.

 

“Zhat child. He looked afraid of me. Asked me if… if it hurt. Ludwig, do you look at me like zhat, vhen my back is turned? Vith contempt? Pity? Wish I still looked like… vhen I was… before…”

 

“I see nothing wrong with you,” Misha reassured, “Would not have you any other way. _Ты самый красивый_.”

 

With brute force, Ludwig smashed his fists onto the wooden desk, on top of scattered paper work and dog-eared books, causing Misha to jump. Ludwig whipped his head around, his eyes shiny with unshed tears, as he got up in Misha’s face.

 

“You think _zis_ is handsome, you blind fool?!” he roared, pointing to his cheek with one hand while the other held Misha’s collar in a death grip.

 

The cheek in question, the left one, housed an ugly scar that ran from his mouth and outline his strong cheekbone into a jagged crescent shape. Stitches had long since been removed, yet the wound’s ghost remained, now a pink and ugly blemish upon Ludwig’s fair middle-aged complexion. A permanent reminder of the past, a wound that never fully healed.

 

Ludwig shook Misha’s collar. “I pretend not to notice the stares. I must pretend I’m fine. Zhey always, _always_ say nothing. But I’m not blind! To zhem, I’m a monster. _Ein hackfresse!_ Do you know vhat zhat’s like? Zhose ice cold stares?”

 

Misha glanced at the wood floor littered with pigeon feathers, then back at Ludwig. “No, I do not,” he admitted, “The next person who looks at you like that, I will break their arm like toothpick.”

 

Misha’s reassurance was futile, and Ludwig yanked his hands away and frustration and stomped towards the wall, then back to his desk. He ran his fingers through his hair, disheveling all the gel and work he did to make it look tidy every morning in a furious motion. He sat down in his chair and buried his face into his arms, a string of German curses muttering under his breath.

 

Misha clenched his own fisted and looked off somewhere towards the corner of the room, taking a moment to compose his next response. “I should have been faster,” he growled, “If I was not slow, I could have stopped him. He would not have hurt you then.”

 

That was enough to pop Ludwig’s head back up slowly, then turned to Misha. His previously unshed tears were now rolling down his face, and his expression was heartbroken. “No, no, oh Misha,” he said in a soft tone, “ _Bitte_ , don’t be like zhat. Vhat he did vas not your fault. I should not have provoked him.”

 

“He should not have touched you at all. You did what you must, Ludwig.”

 

“Maybe I’m ze fool. I thought I could fight back, but…”

 

“No,” Misha affirmed, kneeling in front of his crying lover. He used one of his meaty paws to delicately wipe the tears from Ludwig’s face and gazed into his brilliant blue eyes. “Listen to me. He used you, did bad things to you. Almost killed you. Fighting back is not a bad thing.”

 

“But if I just vaited for you, played along a bit, I would still look _normal_.”

 

“No more! If hurts me very much to hear you say such awful things about yourself, _Сахарок_. Say any more and I will break into many pieces. You’ll have to sweep me up with a broom!”

 

The time for holding back any emotions was long gone, and Ludwig collapsed out his chair and into Misha’s arms, clutching for dear life as he dampened Misha’s shoulder with salty tears. Misha held him back as if he vowed to never let go.

 

Ludwig had rarely ever cried before, at least around Misha. The life of a mercenary meant to bottle up your emotions until they messed up your psyche to the point of no return, lest you get ridiculed by your team mates. But Misha knew Ludwig, and it took a lot for Ludwig to cry. The only other time he had cried before Misha was tears of joy when Misha was on the brink of death on his operating table after a particularly nasty battle.

 

How long had Ludwig been keeping these feelings? Did he ever wake up in the night and slip out of bed, careful not to wake Misha, and sob in the solitude of the bathroom after the memories replayed in his dreams? Why did Misha never think it would get this bad?

 

Misha pressed a tender kiss to Ludwig’s head, rubbing circles between his shoulder blades. “The past is the past. Cannot change that. But to me, even if the entire world points and laughs like cowards, you are just as handsome as the day I met you. No one can change that. Not him, not the people in town, no one. Never forget this Ludwig.”

 

Ludwig craned his neck to meet Misha’s eyes, then melted into a tearful kiss with him, whispering sweet nothings between breaths. The waterworks didn’t cease just yet, but now they weren’t just from sadness, just the flooding of emotions of both passion and security. They did not move for nearly thirty minutes, opting to bask in each other’s comfort and body heat.

 

\----  
  
“Ludwig!” Misha called from downstairs, “Are you coming? Movie will be starting soon!”

 

“Coming!” Ludwig hollered back from he and Misha’s bedroom, “Just one moment, _bitte_.”

 

Ludwig admired himself in the vanity mirror, wondering how long it’s been since he dressed in such a nice vest. Living in America post-mercenary life had caused both he and Misha to indulge in loose American fashions, saving suits and vests for more special occasions.

 

As he adjusted his tie, he noticed his surgical mask sitting on the dresser. Ludwig picked up the thin material, examined it, and looked at the doorway. It had been several days since they went into town, enjoying a lazy weekend. This mask hadn’t been used since their grocery and ice cream trip last Thursday.

 

On his was out of his room, he tossed the mask in the waste bin, and eagerly followed Misha into the car for their (secret) movie date. “Right behind you, _liebling_!”

**Author's Note:**

> Translation notes:  
> Mein Freund= My Friend  
> Da= Yes  
> Ты самый красивый= You are the most handsome  
> Hackfresse= An ugly person (literal translation: face of ground meat)  
> Bitte= Please  
> Сахарок= Pet name meaning "sugar"  
> Liebling= Darling


End file.
